“Early or late, choking to death is rarely constructive.”

Somehow, Katrina managed to both chew her food and finish in ten minutes. She gulped down her lemonade, washed her hands, and rushed downstairs.

“Oh no!”

Katrina dashed back upstairs and returned with Martha.

When she finally entered the practice hall, Miss Satomi was peering at her laptop.

“So, these players—they all play into cameras and post their videos?”

Katrina nodded.

“And this is the number of people who watch?”

“The number of views, Miss Satomi. Someone can watch more than once.”

“I see. But still, some numbers are in the hundreds of thousands? Millions?”

“Yes,” Katrina said.

“And this is what you want to do.”

“Yes!”

Her teacher didn’t respond. Of course she didn’t. What had she been thinking? Miss Satomi was a classical music teacher. She probably didn’t even see this as real music at all.

“I—I mean, if I could have some people watch these videos, I could find my own place to live and maybe even get health insurance.” Katrina flailed. “I—I mean, I know it’s just gaming music, but—”

“This one has seven million views…”

“Miss Satomi?”

“Very well. Now that you’re finally here, let’s compare these videos with your own.”

Shizuka watched Katrina squirm. From what Shizuka could tell, Katrina had received two types of feedback: unabashed praise from her group instructor, and unspeakable negativity from her father. Neither was conducive to learning.

To grow, the girl would need constructive criticism. Shizuka played a clip that she had found interesting.

“Tell me about this one. Are we in Hell again?”

“No, this is the victory theme from Axxiom. It’s a world-builder game.”

“A what?”

“It simulates the creation of universes by changing physical laws and constants.”

Creation of universes? These games were nothing if not ambitious.

“This is the victory theme? Then why are you hunched?”

“M-Miss Satomi?”

“That is not how to play a victory theme. Your posture should be, well, victorious. And here, do you notice that you’re sliding? And here, your timing is off.”

“But that’s how it sounds in the game,” she heard Katrina say.

“But that is not how it should sound on your violin.”

Shizuka paused the video. How was this the same student who played Schradieck? She had been so precise, so technically conscious. Why would someone who played Schradieck like that sound like this?

What was she missing?

“Play this again,” Shizuka said.

Don’t assume, Satomi. Listen.

“Stop. Again.”

There had to be a reason, somewhere.

“Again.”

And then—

“HA!”

“Miss Satomi?” Her student was so startled that she almost dropped her bow.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Miss Satomi returned with a violin case, which she opened matter-of-factly.

“My Guarneri.”